Shall We Dance?
by Ione
Summary: Elizabeth is careful about her new husband's education, but her pupil is a gifted one. A married!Lizzie/Darcy story. ONESHOT.


Shall We Dance?

A gift fic for ichoosepazuzu

Elizabeth had once refrained from laughing at her husband-to-be, believing it yet too early for his education in playful mockery to begin. She had since refrained many times, and not merely during the period of their engagement. Even during the first two weeks of their marriage, she had stifled her lively wit for his sake, turning her sly comments and clever observations to make him laugh at others, not himself. In this manner, she had endeavored to show him that her teasing was not a mark of scorn against its object, but a sign of fondness and love.

In the new spirit of self-reflection and honesty that had influenced her since receiving his letter, she had even ridiculed herself, trusting always in her husband's fondness to save her from too much remorse over past foolish behavior. His tender kisses were enough to show her that he still loved her, despite the near eternity of nine weeks that had passed since their engagement. Her fluttering heartbeat and blushing cheeks were enough to convince him that she loved him just as well.

So the Darcys were considered a success by their neighbors. Malicious wags did agree that Mrs. Darcy had not quite the decorum one could wish in the mistress of Pemberly, but they were hushed by those who swore that Mr. Darcy was quite a different fellow since his marriage.

Elizabeth had heard all this chatter, and it made excellent fodder for her lessons with her husband. Darcy had used to grow pale with anger when he heard a word spoken against her; now he merely shook his head and gave her a quiet smile.

Now as they sat in the coach waiting to breach the crowd in Harley Street, on the eve of their first London ball together as man and wife, Elizabeth reflected with pride on her pupil, and reflected that now was as good a time as any to begin laughing at her husband.

So she began. "There was a time, my dear Mr. Darcy," she said, smiling as his hand tightened over hers, "that I swore never to dance with you."

He returned her smile. "Was this before or after the ball at Netherfield?"

"Before, naturally," her hair was done too carefully for her to lean against him, as she liked to do when they were alone, "It would have been rather inconstant of me swearing to do so after."

"And what brought on such a rash vow?"

"Well," she replied, "when we first met, you know, you were hardly complimentary to me. Do you not recall what you said?"

Darcy did not often blush, and it was too dark in the carriage to see his face clearly, but Elizabeth heard him swallow. "I cannot."

"Oh, then let me remind you," she turned her face away so he could not see her smile at his obvious lie, "You said that you had no time to give consequence to ladies who were slighted by other men. This was preceded, of course, by a reflection that while I was tolerable, I was not enough to tempt men of high stature onto the floor."

Darcy was silent. He shifted as though to pull away, and Elizabeth realized that perhaps her student was less advanced than she thought. Her elegant curls pressed flat against the smooth wool of his coat.

"What foolish mistakes we all make! At the time, I remember my irritated pride hardly allowing you a good feature in your face! How blind, how wretchedly blind I was!" And despite their months of happiness, Elizabeth felt a cold tremor at the thought that, to the last, her pride might have kept her from this.

"That was an error indeed," he replied. Elizabeth looked up at him, reveling in the sly smile that tugged at his solemn mouth. Perhaps it would behoove her not to teach him to smile too freely. This sight was one she cherished as belonging to herself alone.

"Then, Mr. Darcy, I hope you will join me in my firm resolution to keep the grim shadow of the past from tonight's bright splendor," she could hardly keep her countenance as Darcy struggled to meet her mock solemnity.

"I will, my darling Elizabeth," he kissed her hand, "by laying a proposal to you?"

"Which is?"

"That you grant me the honor—nay, the very great pleasure—of the first two dances."

Now she was free to laugh. "That sir, I shall."


End file.
